Silent Gods
by Nefertam
Summary: The gods have spoken to mortals since the beginning of time, commanding their governments and bestowing their blessings to the people. But when the gods go silent, the world is plunged into chaos. Can Ithuru, priest of the Silent One, prevent war and save the world from destruction with his newfound allies? Or will this be the end of Mankind? SYOC
1. Intro

"The gods have been silent for too long," proclaimed Alyssa, Oracle of the Fiery One.

"You are foolish, woman. The gods will answer when they are damn well ready," replied a coarse old man. He was called the Prophet of Worms, and he served the most vile of the Revered Ones.

"Hold your tongue, Prophet. If I had it my way, you would not have been invited to this Gathering," replied Alyssa, a young, beautiful woman with feathery auburn hair and strikingly green eyes. She wore a wispy tunic of spring green, clasped over her shoulders by pins shaped in the symbol of her _goddess,_ a sword piercing a bleeding heart.

I normally don't talk at these Gatherings, or really anywhere. If I truly feel passionate about a particular topic, I may offer my opinion, but this certainly isn't the time. Sometimes I wonder why the Bloodied God choose me in the first place. I can't say I represent him well. I'm too shy and compliant to really make a difference. I guess it is as they say, 'the gods work in mysterious ways'.

"What say have you in this, Acolyte?" inquired the Prophet, calling me by my ceremonial title.

Actually my full title is Acolyte of the Silent One as I serve the silent god of the moon, blood, and innocence. Then of course, that isn't even my real name. I'm called Ithuru, after the wolf companion of the Bloodied God. As Acolyte, I'm the leader and representative of the cult of the Bloodied God, the Innocent One, or the Silent One if you prefer. Ramaeesh goes by many different titles, but his true name should only be called upon in times of dire need.

"Sir, I serve the Silent One. It is not disconcerting if I do not here from my master for lengths of time," I replied respectfully, although it took every ounce of my being not to roll my eyes at the old man. I adjusted my thin black hood over my head, the silky material rustling softly.

"If I may, I do believe the gods have gone silent. It has been two months since we have communicated with Mahazen" said a mousy older woman called the Speaker. She was the head of the cult of the sea god, Mahazen. Unlike most other worshipers of the Revered Ones, cultists of Mahazen freely used his name rather than a respectful title.

"Which is my point exactly," exclaimed Alyssa. "You can not deny the absence of the Revered Ones, Prophet! We must solve this immediately," cried the young woman. Her and I are the youngest here. The Fiery One, goddess of beauty, war, and fire, demands young, beautiful woman as her servants. Similarly, the disciples of Ramaeesh must be young men because the god himself takes the form of a young, innocent youth.

"And how exactly do you propose we do this," asked Trysta, Priestess of Respit, the Burning Sun. The gods we serve are bitter rivals, as well as twins. Often the proclamations of the Innocent One and the Burning Sun contradict, making our jobs all the more difficult.

"If the Revered Ones are displeased with us, how are we to right it without knowing what the source of their displeasure is," asked the Speaker of the Void Goddess. Most mysterious of the First Gods, the nameless goddess of the Void and Sky was an enigma to even her own servants.

"Only time will can tell. We must be patient and attentive to any signs the gods may give" I said, speaking up more than I originally intended. A few of the assembled priests gave me inquisitive looks. I ignored them as best as I can, fidgeting with the clasp on my shawl, a silver pin shaped in the image of the Silent One's icon: a burning heart.

After my comment the Prophet of Worms argued with the Oracle a little longer, then the Gathering was ended. Most of the priests and priestesses looked distraught. Although many of the representatives had not spoken, they too shared the concern of the more vocal leaders. The gods had gone silent. Although this was nothing new to me, the others always had received messages from their masters. Normally when a god wished to convey a message to his followers, he or she would posses the Mouthpiece of his or her cult. Every temple had a Mouthpiece, a special priest or priestess whom the god would speak through.

But now the gods had gone silent. Not since the rise of humanity had the gods been silent. This was cause indeed to panic, though I can't blame people like the Prophet who deny anything is wrong. They cannot cope without the Revered Ones.

As I make my way home, I can't help but shivers little, both from stress and from the rising chill as the moon rises over the dirt road. Normally the sight of the moon would comfort me. The Bloodied God created the moon to light the darkness for his followers. Now that the other gods had gone silent, the moon glowed harshly on the valley, bathing the world in a bitter silver light.

The temple of Ramaeesh rose up ahead. Four towers stretched into the night sky, illuminated by the light of the moon. Our priests did not believe in lighting torches or braziers. Instead we survive by moonlight only. Every roof in the temple has a gap, allowing the sun and moon to illuminate the altars and pews of the holy house. The priests living quarters are under the temple, in a sprawling underground complex. As Acolyte, I have the largest room, a warm space dominated by a large sleeping mat, draped over with wispy curtains. Unlike in the actual temple, the chambers of the priests were lit by brass braziers and elegant sconces.

I undressed from my ceremonial finery and washed my face in a silver basin. I looked myself over in a bronze mirror. My caramel brown hair was disheveled from being covered by a hood all day. My slim face looked tired, dark circles ringing my eyes. My ceremonial khol was smeared a little in one corner of my eyelid. My bright blue eyes were half shut from exhaustion.

I slipped under the cover of my sleeping mat and finally fell asleep. _I was walking down the center isle in the main chamber of the temple. A young man stood in front of the altar, his tanned flesh inked with red an silver runes. He had a kindly, young face, one that girls would dream of. He wore a simple tunic of black and grey with dark baggy pants, his feet bare. _

_"Dear child, kneel before me," commanded the stunning youth. I did so, sensing that this indeed was the god I served. "As you well know by now, the gods have gone silent. There is strife in the heavens. Both Bellamoria, the Fiery One, and Acemis, He-Who-Rots, have shown their displeasure with Man. They claim that the mortals have stopped paying us the respect we deserve. I agree with them, but many others do not. My brother, Respit is chief amongst those who stand for the humans. I cannot say my allegiance is with the mortals, however I can not just stand by and let them all perish. You must warn your companions. War is coming. They may stand with me and live, or they can follow Respit and die. Save your friends dear child. Warn them, and come to me. Have peace," said the Bloodied God._

_"But Silent One, how can we be affected by war in the heavens?" I asked, still kneeling. _

_"Dear child, Bellamoria and Acemis wish to fight not only the gods, but the entire human race as well. If they had it their way, the entirety of humanity would be eradicated, but they have allowed me to intervene. I can not promise you immunity from what is about to unfold, but I can try my best to ensure that you and your companions survive."_

_"But I must ask a favor. You must save at least one priest from every god. If the human race is to survive, we must have representatives. You and the priests you rescue shall be blessed and inducted into the new age as leaders of men. If you fail, you will die. I wish there were another way, dear child, but there is not. Find the priests and save your friends. War shall come, and you must be ready to survive. Now wake up my servant."_

I woke up with a start, sweat dripping from my bangs into my eyes. I was shivering, despite the overwhelming heat of the room. _What am I going to do_, I asked myself. The Silent One visited me in a dream! In all my readings in the temple's archive, I have only found one account of the Bloodied God appearing in a vision to anyone.

* * *

><p>So this will be another SYOC, and there should be quite a few slots open to begin with. First, I'll need to lay out the rules:<p>

• PM me your submission

• I will need guys as well as girls, so if I receive too many females, I will reject them

• be creative and thoroughly! I may PM you questions about your character if need be

• be realistic! No Mary or Gary Sues!

• please review the chapters. If I make mistakes, tell me!

Now then... Each of the characters will be a priest to one of the gods in my original pantheon:

•Bellamoria: Goddess of love, fire, and war

•Respit: one of the two first gods, God of light, the day, and revels

•Acemis: God of insanity, dreams, and death

•Mahazen: God of the sea and storms

•She-of-the-Void: Goddess of the sky, stars, and space

•Tahadis: God of victory, athleticism, and competitions

•Ellah: Goddess of art, history, and knowledge

•Ramaeesh: God of the night, the moon, blood, and innocence (taken)

•Ekoorb: Goddess of nature and animals

the character form will be on my profile. Thanks for submitting!


	2. Chapter 1

I practically jumped off of my sleeping mat, already fully awake. I needed to pack, to get ready for my journey, but then a thought hit me: Who will run the temple while I am gone? I get clothes ready for the day, a simple thin white knee-length tunic of linen with baggy crimson harem pants, along with my _black_ hooded shawl and sandals. Then I practically sprint down the corridor of the living quarters.

I should probably perform a ritual cleansing before I go. There's a large, manmade pool of natural spring water in the very center of the temple. Before priests of Ramaeesh go on journeys, especially missionary trips, they bathe in the pool to cleanse them and renew them for the task ahead.

As I emerge from the stairwell leading from the living quarters, I see boys of various ages moving about. Some carry incense burners while others scribble on papyrus scrolls with peacock feather styluses. On an alter on one side of the alabaster-walled temple, the oldest priest sacrifices a ram with a ceremonial dagger. He is eighteen, two years older than I. He has always been a devout priest, and I trust him with taking over until I get back.

"Gelspar," I call to the tall, lanky boy. He could have been a skeleton he was so thin. "I am going on a journey for the next few weeks, by order of the Gathering," I lie, squinting a little at the reddish light streaming in from stained glass windows above. "Can I trust you to run the temple until I get back?"

"You can rely on me, Acolyte," he replies with a slight smile, blood still staining the front of his shirt and hands from his sacrifice.

I nod in appreciation then proceed back to the living quarters. Near my room is a storage closet where extra supplies, clothes, and tools are kept. I enter the room, lifting the wispy curtain hanging from the doorframe out of the way. On the nearest shelf to my right lie ceremonial daggers, used for sacrifices. I choose a set of matching knives with curved blades and encrusted with rubies that reminded me a little of drops of blood. I then grab a silken travel sack from the adjacent shelf. Such bags are roomy and sturdy, quite apt for harsh weather and trying conditions, seeing as priests go on missions all around the known world.

I grab a few other things from the shelves including a water skein, a coil of rope, a blanket, some healing poultices and unguents in little clay containers, and holy water. Then I head to my room and shove a few spare sets of clothing into my pack, as well as some bits of jewelry to barter with. Finally I grab some cosmetic supplies and incense, as well as a book of prayers. My pack is filled to the brim and I think I'm set to go.

As I leave the temple into the hot desert sun, I can't help but feel a pang of sadness. I've spent most of my life in this temple, and it's become a home. However if I am to save it, I need to leave. I glance at the palm trees and desert flowers that decorated the front of the temple. The sanctuary was built over an oasis in the Reji desert, the southernmost region of the continent. There's a few towns near the temple, but more importantly the temple of Respit, the Most Bright, is just a few miles ahead.

I give a sigh and glance one more time at the white and gold minarets of the temple, the walls lined with red and yellow stained glass windows. Then I start walking down the road.

As I enter the first town, I decide it might be advantageous if I buy a camel for the journey. As I walk down the busy streets, I can detect the thick scent of cheap incense. Merchants call from carpet-shrouded stalls, selling wines, jewels, and spices. Before I was I priest, my parents used to take me to the bazaar to look at the wares. I loved the bazaar, but priestly duties kept me from visiting for so long.

I decide to hold off on purchasing any camels, despite passing a stable on the road. If I am to find allies, I may not be able to purchase mounts for all of them. The paved road from the town to the sanctuary of the King of Day is not too rough, so I make good time. The temple is large and open, simply a large domed roof supported by hundreds of columns. The entire dome is made from an alternating pattern of gold and polished bronze, giving an extremely reflective, blinding appearance. The columns were made from a red limestone, so the entire temple replicates the setting sun.

As I climb the ruddy steps of the place of worship, I pass priests wrapped in turbans and kurtas with tight cotton breeches. The elder priests sport wispy white beards which remind me of the desert clouds. I exchange polite nods with a few of the servants of the Most Bright, but not many of my gestures are returned. Although not outright hostile, the priests of Respit do not look kindly upon the servants of Ramaessh for the enmity the twin gods bare.

I enter the lofty temple, a warm breeze ruffling through my light garb. The smells of burning meet and spices, along with incense, blended in the open air. _The boy praying at the alter across from you is who you seek. It will not take much convincing for him to aid our cause, dear child,_ says a foreign voice in my mind. At the first sound of the voice, I practically jump, but I recognize it as Ramaeesh's.

As I approach the boy, I notice his dirty blonde, messy and spiky hair. Most priests of Respit take great care to make themselves appear orderly and well groomed. Though he is kneeling at the altar with his back turned to me, he looks about my age. He wears a white kurta with yellowish tan trousers.

I don't know whether I should interrupt his prayers or wait, but I decide that if I have to round up priests from every cult, I need to be quick. Who knew what was happening in the heavens with threats of war? I settle on tapping his shoulder.

"Excuse me," I say, a bit quietly though I'm sure he heard. The boy turns around and gives a smile. The first thing I notice is that he has a small scar on his left cheekbone. Despite this he has nice looking face, and I'm sure if he weren't a priest he'd have a harem of girls by now.

"How may I help you?" the boy asks in a pleasant voice.

"I, uh," I clear my throat before continuing,"I'm Ithuru, Acolyte to the Bloodied God. May we talk in private?" I ask, nodding to the bustling priests, carrying out the day's work.

"Sure. We can talk in the garden. There's probably no one there; there never is at this time of day. Too hot," the boy says in an amiable tone. "Oh, I'm Shane, by the way. Shane Rowan." He gives a little bow with his hands folded, and I return it, as is the greeting custom in Reji.

As the boy leads me to the topiary, I notice the going-ons of all he priests. This temple is much louder and livelier than mine. Back home, the most noise one might hear would be the ululating chants and hymns to Ramaeesh. In fact, one of my favorite parts of being Acolyte is leading he call and response hymns. I love to sing.

When we reach the gardens, I'm so lost in thought that I almost don't even notice. Beautiful orchids and palms dominate most of the space. Clumps of exotic flowers line the stone pathways, which lead to a massive gold and bronze sundial. Shadows play across its surface. Shane leads me to a stone bench in the shade of a Cyprus tree and we sit.

"Where to start," I wonder aloud. "As you know, I'm the head of the cult of the Silent One. This may sound crazy, but the god visited me in a dream. He said the gods had gone silent because there was a conflict in the heavens. He said Bellamoria and Acemis would destroy mankind if I didn't intervene. Ramaeesh instructed me to gather one priest from every cult. I don't know what he needs us for, but he said we can save humanity. If I don't gather the priests, it will mean the end for all of us."

"Dear Respit," he said in an awed voice. "So you need me to come with you? So we can save everyone? I guess I have no choice in the matter then. Alright, I'll come," he says modestly. "I'm going to need to pack for the journey."

"I'll meet you at the stairs in the front of the temple then?" I ask.

"Sure. I shouldn't be too long," he replies, then leads me back through the temple. At the entrance to the living huts, similar to our subterranean living quarters, we part ways.

Shane is true to his word and comes to the front relatively quickly. Once he's double checked his sackcloth bag, we are ready to go. The closest temple to Respit's is the sanctuary of She-of-the-Void. In between Reji and the northern region, Shetlir, the temple of the Nameless Goddess is in the most temperate region, Dehiri. Here in Reji, the sun is always glaring and when you aren't in the Oasis, you are surrounded by sandy desert. In Shetlir, the weather is always cold. It is constantly snowing in the winter and raining in the summer. But in Dehiri, they experience weather from all four seasons: crisp autumns, warm springs, hot summers, and brusque winters.

While we walk, Shane tells me a little about himself. He's really friendly and open which makes me feel bad that I'm such an awkward socializer. By the time we have made it out of the Oasis and into the desert, I've learned almost nothing of Shane's past, but I have picked up that he is very outgoing, friendly, and kind. He's also extremely devoted to the King of Day, which may be an asset later.

As the sun begins to slip behind the dunes, we set up camp for the night. Tomorrow, we make our way to the Temple of the Void.


End file.
